


The Rescue

by justhuman



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Buffyverse Lyric Wheel, Implied Relationships, Lyric Wheel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-24
Updated: 2003-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-29 03:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justhuman/pseuds/justhuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley and Angel play with second chances, or was that third?...fourth??? Mid-season 5 spec.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rescue

It wasn't fair to say that the Wolfram & Hart building was quiet at night. The nature of the business, the clients and some of the staff pretty much meant that they were a twenty-four/seven operation. Still, like most American companies, nearly every employee made a beeline for the front door at 4:59 pm, heading into the crush of rush hour traffic.

On a Friday night, like tonight, Angel had noted that the exodus usually began about a half-hour earlier, leaving him as alone as he wanted to be. Tonight was different. There was a hum in the reinforced steel framing that sent a buzz down the deserted corridors in the office areas. It was amazing that without actually hearing a thing, Angel could tell that something was going on.

He knew that he was getting closer, but the source remained elusive as the vibration began to echo and misdirect. Nearly five months in the building had taught Angel many of its secrets. It was becoming very apparent that whatever was going on had to be happening in the oversized gymnasium on the lowest basement level. Figuring there was no need to burst into the action while there was a superior vantage point in a set of box seats above the gym, he put the CEO's passkey to good use.

Angel hadn't expected to find Wesley, especially dressed in a full suit of armor, helmet tucked under his arm. Trying to look past the overall oddness, he could see that Wesley was gazing into the gym, obviously annoyed, maybe even angry.

"What do we got? Ritual sacrifice, uhm...dragon?" Super senses had their advantages. Angel heard Wesley's heart jump when the rest of the man looked completely nonplused. Strolling in Angel didn't rush right to the window, but gave Wes some room to fill him in.

It was kinda funny to Angel how armor boy was giving him the once over like he wasn't dressed for the occasion. "What? Do I have a spot on my lapel? Bet its nothing compared to the rust spot you've got."

"Angel, you're not dressed."

"Beg to differ, Wes. They've been calling these things on my body clothes for as long as I've been around. What the hell are you wearing?" Stepping up to the glass, Angel saw what looked to be a crowd that could fill Times Square on New Year's Eve.

"I'm wearing what is commonly called a _costume,_ which is customary for Halloween and _required_ for the annual company Halloween Ball. Harmony left the memo on your desk - three times this week." Something was nagging at the back of Angel's brain, but it wasn't coming through completely through because he was too busy watching Wesley's eyes. There were days he pretended to be a stupid vampire so Wes would give him that look.

Knowing that he could get more of the same if he played his cards right, Angel gave Wes his best sheepish look. "I, ah, guess I forgot." Really annoyed - it was a good look on Wes. "Yeah, well maybe I ignored it." The look on Wesley's face was making Angel more than a little bit warm. Turning to the glass, Angel leaned on the railing. "Why do we have a Halloween party again, when most companies just have a Christmas party?"

"Angel." Not harsh, just a little reproving and yeah, Angel was getting off on being a bad boy for Wes. But then Wesley' mood shifted, and he sat with a clank on a bench. "Oh what's the use? It's not like I'm going down there either."

"Wes, it's not like your all dressed up with no place to go. What's eating you?" Putting his back to the rail, Angel studied Wesley and didn't like what he saw. The confidence was gone like it had never been there. Instead, Angel found himself looking at the sad sack version of Wesley that he hated with a passion. This was one part of the _arrangement_ that he hated. Working side-by-side with Wesley like nothing had ever been wrong, that alone was almost worth the price that he had paid. Angel didn't miss the hard-ass that Wesley had become one little bit, but he did miss the self-assurance that went along with it.

"It's just that-" Wesley looked down, fussing at a piece of polished metal. "Never mind, it's not important."

"Hey, responsible for the welfare of those I dragged into this with me. Speaking of which, are Fred, Gunn and Lorne down there?" Looking down at the crowd, Lorne was easy to spot despite the colorful costuming all around. It was hard to miss a green Dorothy complete with ruby slippers. Gunn was nearby in a zoot suit, looking more than a little like a gangster.

"Really, it's nothing to be bothered about." Angel _hated_ when Wes sounded like a hurt puppy and he was just about to explain that when he saw Fred dressed as ballerina swan, flitting about the floor with Knox, who was looking pretty good in black tights as Fred's prince.

Turning back to Wesley, Angel stepped forward and sat next to the other man. "I saw her with him." What it really did was piss Angel off. Although, it would have been hard for him to put a finger directly on what ticked him off more. Wes mooning over Fred; Fred ignoring what a great guy Wes was; or maybe Wesley not noticing what he could have had.

"Yes, well then you can see that there's no reason for me to go down there."

"Your right." Making a decision, Angel stood up and headed towards the door.

"Angel?"

"Party looks lame. There's a bottle of scotch, a chess set and a can opener in my apartment. Let's go."

Wesley wasn't looking completely convinced, but then he was standing up and heading towards Angel. "Can opener?"

"Yeah, I'm hoping we won't have to resort to a blow torch to get you out of that." That got Angel a laugh. Annoyed was good, but the world was a better place when Wesley smiled - at least Angel's world was.

***

The match was tied one all, but Angel was thinking that his victory in the last round had been more about how much single malt that the two of them had downed. Over the hours that they had been playing, Angel had learned that knights wear gray sweats under all that armor - sweats that had been in the washer one or twenty times too many and were thin in places.

"Wes, what the hell made you choose that outfit?"

"The metal chafes?" Wesley kept a poker face for about thirty seconds and with a smile and a snort took another sip of the fine amber liquid.

Smiling, Angel caved into the urge to touch. With a single, finger, Angel poked at small hole in the knee. Must have tickled because Angel felt Wesley shiver, and it must have been his imagination that Wesley leaned into it, just a little. "Where does your substantial salary from Wolfram & Hart go?"

"We can't all be fashion plates. It's not like I wear these to meet clients." Wesley shrugged, but didn't move. All common sense told Angel he should be pulling back but he hesitated a moment and kept playing with the frayed cloth. "Of course, if you keep at it, I won't be decently dressed enough to leave."

Was that a come-on? Angel didn't have a problem at all with the idea of Wesley being less dressed, but he kept that to himself and instead stood up and poured another drink for himself, topping off Wesley's extended glass. "Point taken. But you haven't told me why you chose the armor."

"It was this actually." Hefting the helmet that looked a bit out of step with the rest of the costume, Angel watched Wesley take a moment to study it, like it was a mystical object. "I found it in my office one day. After verifying that it was an authentic piece of medieval armor and that it wasn't cursed, I took a fancy to it. I, I don't know what it was about it. There's something special, almost familiar about it."

Frowning behind his glass, Angel extended a hand, and Wesley handed over the helmet. It was nothing that Angel recognized, but still, someone was going to answer some questions about it, and Wes' fascination with it.

"It's a nice piece." Handing it back, Angel remembered how much he like Wesley's smile.

"Yes, yes it is." Admiring the helmet some more, Wesley turned a smile directly at Angel who was pleased for once that he didn't have a beating heart because that smile would have stopped it. "So it looks like instead of doing the rescuing tonight, I was rescued instead. Thank you for inviting me up here, Angel."

"Hey, you don't need an invite, Wes. My home is your home." Feeling a little off balance, Angel stood up and prowled for a moment. The gas fireplace was tossing off more light than heat. Like a moth drawn to the flame, Angel caught himself inching closer and closer to the warmth that was radiating off of Wesley.

"Rescuing - it's part of my job description. It's got benefits."

"Thankless, all too often though, isn't it?" There was something shining and soft in Wesley's eyes that Angel couldn't pull his own from them.

Husky from the alcohol, Angel's voice was barely above a whisper. "Sometimes. But then, the ones that aren't shell shocked, sometimes they thank you and mean it. You know, shake your hand, a hug, a..." Slowly, Angel had leaned down, putting their faces only inches apart. He wasn't sure exactly what the post-Connor Wes would have done, but Angel was betting that that Wesley wouldn't have been sitting perfectly still, staring deeply into Angel's eyes.

"A...?" Wesley's breath was warm and tangy against Angel's face. The mouth was hot, wet, inviting as Angel's hand reached around, gripping the back of Wesley's head and neck, pulling them together.

"Wes..." It was a pained murmur as Angel licked the other man's lips, sliding his tongue into the warm depths.

It was tentative and slow at first, but soon Angel felt long tapered fingers teasing his chest through the thin layer of dark silk covering it. Needing more, Angel pulled Wesley out of the chair, but didn't stop kissing him.

Pulling back, Wesley was suddenly tense, pushing on Angel's chest. Internally Angel panicked for his own stupidity - shouldn't have pushed, shouldn't have touched.

"Angel? Wesley was flushed, out of breath. "Angel, please, please don't stop." Momentarily struck dumb, Angel saw the fear creeping into Wesley's face.

"No! I mean, yes." Frowning, Angel tried to sort the question again and finally gave up in favor of pushing Wesley against the table, sending some of the chess pieces flying. Hips met, grinding out a rhythm of pure need as Angel's leg slipped between Wesley's.

Abandoning the gasping mouth, Angel worked his way down Wesley's jaw with blunt teeth, listening to the moans of pleasure escaping. Angel met them with a predatory growl as his lips and tongue worked at the smooth skin and throbbing pulse of the other man's throat.

But suddenly there was a roughness where one hadn't been moments before. Testing with his tongue, Angel traced the long line, an imperfection in soft, purity of the flesh. Wesley was shuddering beneath him, in something that wasn't pleasure or fear. There was a cold lump in Angel's gut, as he knew without being told what was happening.

Compulsively he kissed the scar, wishing it away, but knowing that he was writing graffiti on Wesley's body, drawing the story of how hard they had tried, and now both had failed to save Connor.

"Boss, we have a problem."

Angel didn't lift his head. "Fuck you, Eve. This wasn't our deal."

"We couldn't have foreseen Fred's curiosity with the incidents of de je vu-"

"Fuck. You."

"Actually, she'd probably would like that, wouldn't you Lilah?"

Lifting his head, Angel saw the hardness in Wesley's eyes again before he let go and stepped back. For what seemed like hours they stared at each other and Angel couldn't discern any emotion beyond anger in Wesley's eyes.

"Damn, I thought the disguise was good." Eve's perky tones slid into Lilah's more sultry ones. "It was the helmet wasn't it?"

Hefting the antique, Wesley walked away from Angel. "The helmet and all the twinges of de ja vu that came with it. I expect that there's some level of pandemonium that needs immediate attention."

"Wouldn't be a party without it. Gunn's taking it pretty cool. Lorne's drinking everything in the bar and Fred is edging towards postal. Missed you, lover."

Angel didn't miss the look that the bitch shot him, but there was only one reaction in the room that he gave a shit about. When Wesley dragged a delicate finger along Lilah's cheek, Angel felt like he was being sliced open.

"I'm afraid that I wasn't given the same opportunity. Your doing?" Lilah's balk at Wesley's tone was almost unperceivable.

"Actually, I just executed the plan. It was actually-"

"Angel's decision." Lilah nodded and Angel felt all hope vanish from the world. With quiet deliberation on his face Wesley paced, tossing the helmet from one hand to the other. Stopping in front of Lilah, he placed it in her hands. "Handle the pandemonium. Angel and I are busy, it's a one way trip back to hell for you if we're disturbed by you're failure, _again_.

With a shake of her head, Lilah put on her trademark smile be fore strutting out of the room.

"Wes, I-" Anger rushed through Angel because he wasn't going to apologize. "He was my son, Wes."

There was a sense of casual power as Wesley leaned against the back of the sofa. "And you did what needed to be done to save him." Nodding, Angel picked up one of the chess pieces presumably to study the detailed carving, but it was really to avoid looking at Wesley.

"Angel, neither of us is going to apologize. I suggest we don't waste any time on that."

"I don't want to lose what we had for the last five month's-"

"The lies," Wesley's tone was harsh and grating. "The deceit, you're _faithful_ servant."

"My friend, Wesley!" The chess piece shattered against the wall, hurled with inhuman strength. Frustrated because there was never going to be a way to salvage what they had, Angel paced impatiently in front of the fire. Stopping himself, Angel glanced at the other man who was giving nothing away in his expression. "Wesley, I need you and not just to run this place. I can't lose all of you and god knows I've wanted you for a long time."

"I had decided to stay at Wolfram & Hart before your _deal_ took effect. I wanted to free Lilah from her contract." Nodding, Angel wished the lead ball in his stomach would go away.

"I get that."

"Angel, I'm staying, but there's going to be some changes. I'm not going to just accept you going off like a loose cannon, taking on every obstacle like it was your own personal battle. We're a team and we're going to act like one." Wesley's finger traced the fine line of inlaid mahogany on the chessboard.

With a renewed sense of hope, Angel joined Wesley at the chessboard and was stopped by a single raised finger. "I can do that." It wasn't Angel's most confident tone, but he meant it.

"Good. I think we should start practicing the teamwork aspect right now."

"Right. Pandemonium, postal co-workers. Should I get some weapons?" There was some confusion as Angel tried to remember where the hidden panel was to the practical weapons were.

"Angel." Wesley was leaning patiently against the chess table. This spurred more confusion as Angel tried to find the weapons.

"The closet's here...someplace"

"It's next to the elevator, but it's not necessary to get the weapons."

Relieved, Angel walked back to Wesley, "Right, no weapons. Weapons would be bad; after all, it's not like Fred weighs anything. I can just pick her up - stop her from doing stuff." Looking to Wesley for some encouragement, Angel found none.

"Teamwork. Lilah is taking care of the others. You have more important things to do."

"Right." Angel's tone was confident, but he had no idea what Wesley was talking about. "And, uhm... help me out here, Wes. I'm willing to do anything to make this right."

Shaking his head, Wesley walked up to Angel and straightened the collar of the silk shirt. "You can't make things right in a minute or an hour. This is going to take time and quite a bit of work."

"Right, I..." Calming down, Angel glanced away from the stern expression in Wesley's eyes. "Just tell me what to do, Wes. I've always been better at action."

"No. I want you to stay perfectly still and I'll let you know when you should move." Fighting the urge to object, Angel was completely floored when Wesley was suddenly kissing him.

~end

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Buffyverse Lyric Wheel - 5th Wheel - in addition to the lyrics prompt there was an addtional Halloween challenge for this round.
> 
> Thanks to Kreipke for the lyrics. I may have (probably) stepped away from the angst in the song and potentially some good characterization for a bit of comfort at the end. Sometimes you just need these things.
> 
> "Both Hands"
> 
> I am walking  
> out in the rain  
> and I am listening to the low moan  
> of the dial tone again  
> and I am getting  
> nowhere with you  
> and I can't let it go  
> and I can't get through...
> 
> the old woman behind the pink curtains  
> and the closed door  
> on the first floor  
> she's listening through the air shaft  
> to see how long our swan song can last  
> and both hands  
> now use both hands  
> oh, no don't close your eyes
> 
> I am writing  
> graffitti on your body  
> I am drawing the story of  
> how hard we tried  
> I am watching your chest rise and fall  
> like the tides of my life,  
> and the rest of it all  
> and your bones have been my bedframe  
> and your flesh has been my pillow  
> I am waiting for sleep  
> to offer up the deep  
> with both hands
> 
> in eachother's shadows we grew less and less tall  
> and eventually our theories couldn't explain it all  
> and I'm recording our history now on the bedroom wall  
> and eventually the landlord will come  
> and paint over it all
> 
> and I am walking  
> out in the rain  
> and I am listening to the low moan of the dial tone again  
> and I am getting nowhere with you  
> and I can't let it go  
> and I can't get though  
> So now use both hands  
> please use both hands  
> oh, no don't close your eyes  
> I am writing graffitti on your body  
> I am drawing the story of how hard we tried  
> hard we tried  
> how hard we tried
> 
> \--ANI DIFRANCO


End file.
